This is the poetry


14

This is the poetry of all my years
with the rhythm that drops like water molecules
and the tongue of holy fires
that shoots with the breath that never-stops

This is the poetry designed for rants
that elegantly convey the big-mouth chanting
of an oppression and growth
of a thousand preaching words of subjectivity

This is the poetry of freedom
it gets enchained in singularities
and skips over synchronicity for thrills
of divine flavors past Shakespeare

This is the poetry that dares to search
for new manners of the riddle of words
into the silence of the great canvas
of art always becoming more personal

This is the poetry of body shaking pride
the quick and childishly glib facade
of the imagination stretched as far as a new nation
that connects all philosophers and poets in time

chanting a single written phrase
This is the poetry from the universe of life
the experience that no sociology can comprehend
the dreaded degree of loving necessity

when I talk to myself in poetry I talk
through all the wild poetry of your eyes.

Poetry Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-zoo-397858926

Early Morning Dew


122

Unto the Ecstasy of peaks!
I would for rapture subdue
The universe would find
Echoes of transport in me

For a diagram of invisibility
For pure light upon my brow
After a hundred years of seeking
Immobile lifted in peace

I would dropped from memory
Recollect the soul’s own way
From winds of summer fields
To triumphant range of stars

Unto the ecstasy of peaks
The elder dead and future born
Communicate, through words
That convey the signing delight

Of things where Buds do belong
Smiling, stooping, plucking, serving
Unto the ecstasy of unknown peaks
And subtle mysteries of early morning light.

Photography Courtesy: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/D266-380277894